


Cautionary Fairytale - Part I

by Rowdyravenclaw



Series: Cautionary Fairytale [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Domestic Steve Rogers, F/M, Getting Together, Nomad Steve Rogers, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Steve Rogers Gets The Life He Deserves...Mostly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:01:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25414357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rowdyravenclaw/pseuds/Rowdyravenclaw
Summary: Steve Rogers gets the life he deserves. On the run after the events of "Avengers: Infinity War", he finds refuge in a small town's flower shop...and the woman who owns it.It's cute, it's fluffy, it has domestic!Steve Rogers... Parts II & III will be rated E.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Reader
Series: Cautionary Fairytale [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1840723
Comments: 5
Kudos: 48





	Cautionary Fairytale - Part I

He liked it here. For two months he’d been away from the bustle and commotion of the Avengers compound—his home—and the mission, and learning to relinquish the burden of leading them proved to be harder than he’d expected. It had been the only life he’d known, that of a solider, a warrior of righteousness and good, and the choice to leave had been set in those morals, but the loneliness was grating. A life on the run was taxing, and it hadn’t taken long for him to realize it. The hotel rooms were barren and cold, the darkness was all encompassing. He’d been alone before, but not like this.

A small town in Massachusetts provided refuge. He’d walked unnoticed for weeks now. Perhaps it was the beard that had finally come in enough to shroud his recognizable image, or the longer hair that he found himself now pushing from his eyes, much like before the wars, before becoming Captain America.

The town was easy enough to navigate, he’d begun to learn the streets and turns, the quick getaways and the peaceful walks. His favorite diner was half a mile from the motel, a small store for other necessities on the way back, and a small flower shop was a burst of color in the lone window of his room, almost seeming out of place in such a mundane little corner of the world. 

Each day, as he passed on his way from his daily errands, he saw the handwritten help wanted sign in the door. The script was elegant and neat, the corners beginning to fold beneath the weight of time and the heat of the sun, paper yellowing, but the words remained steadfast and strong, seemingly growing bolder as the days went by.

Again, a few weeks later, the black script caught his eye, as did the woman organizing a new arrangement in the front window—the owner. He wasn’t sure what happened, how it happened, why it happened…all he knew was that it happened. The jingling of the small bells on the door first alerted him to his predicament, the familiar smell of fresh cut flowers hitting him with a wave of serenity. 

“Can I help you?” a voice asked, friendly and warm.

“I uh…I was gonna ask you the same thing,” he stammered, rubbing the back of his neck, “Saw your sign…”

“You…want to work here?”

“Yeah. I’m pretty good at keepin’ to myself. I can fix a few things, might save you a couple bucks in maintenance repairs. I understand if you don’t want-“

“When can you start?”

A nervous laugh bubbled up from his chest, his eyes shying away from her gaze. Was saying tomorrow too eager? The motel was stifling, he needed to get out, to work, to keep his mind busy with even the most trivial of tasks. Block out the worries about what his friends were doing, if they were alive, maybe they too had found somewhere to hole up. 

“Tomorrow?” she finally chimed in, he could hear the pity-filled smile stretching across her face, “You’re at the motel across the street, right?”

“Yeah,” he regrettably admitted, turning his head up slightly to peek at her through his brow.

“I’m not weird, you’re just kinda hard to miss. Everyday at 4, coming back from Flannigan’s, right?”

“Wow. Busted.”

“I’ll hire you on one stipulation.”

“Okay…”

“Please try literally any other restaurant in town besides Flannigan’s. Please.” 

A routine was formed in the following weeks. He showed up everyday bright and early at 7:30, helped unload whatever was being delivered, or load up anything going out, and then set to work around the tiny space. She’d refused his remodeling offers at first, stating it was too much, that that level of labor was never the expectation, but he assured her he was happy to do it. It was the truth. He liked his hands being busy, it kept his mind quiet, just as he’d hoped. His first week, he had all the shelves in the workspace replaced and the walls painted. He was shocked she’d trusted him to stay late long after she’d gone home, but she had. She never questioned him, she was a calming, neutral presence—just what he needed.

One month in, the front shop had undergone a makeover. Fresh paint, new displays, and he’d relished in the sparkle in her eye as she decorated the renovated space. Her excitement was contagious, and he hung each new sign and photo set with enthusiasm, double checking the placement of each one with her looking on, knowing he’d succeeded when her smile wrinkled her nose. She was lovely in every way, and before he could stop it he realized just how attached he’d become.

Taking great care, he learned what he could about her. She was an open book, willing to share her life with him in ways he wasn’t familiar with. She had no thick, impenetrable walls, hidden secrets, or dark past. She loved flowers—a given—dogs, movies, and coffee. She’d lived in this town her entire life, her parents both taken too soon from cancer, with no siblings to lean on. She hated her ex, a lot, and in turn he did, too, but beyond that her life was mundane and ordinary. He was fascinated by it.

His gaze began to linger when she wasn’t looking, his hands pleaded to reach out touch her gently as he passed, and it took all of his control to not obey their wishes. The sound of her voice was ever-calming, and before long he noticed the change in her tone when she spoke to him. It was gentler, more relaxed, softer, and he’d be lying to himself if he tried to deny the way it made him feel. He knew he was reading into it. Maybe he was too touch and attention starved—too desperate for a place to land to live in reality.

Time passed and his affections only grew. Every time he made her laugh was a victory, and he found himself smiling more and more, the reaction becoming almost effortless. What was once a purposefully done task was now a reflex, coming without instruction or prompting. He liked it. He liked being carefree, and appreciated. She thanked him with a gentle tone of shock at every small notion he did for her, her eyes widening as she looked at him, bright and gracious. He didn’t think people like her existed, and he definitely didn’t think he deserved the time of day from her. 

It was late one night, the clock ticking just past 10, and he’d finally figured out just what was wrong with the refrigerator. She’d be thrilled to know he’d fixed it, and in turn saved a very expensive maintenance bill. The internet had come in handy once again. As he went to throw his toolbox into the corner he’d claimed as his own, the light in her office caught his eye. It was a common occurrence, and he smiled to himself as he went to flick it off, but was taken aback as her hunched figure still sat with her head in her hands at her desk.

“Hey, I didn’t think you were still here, sorry,” he stammered, averting his eyes as her head lifted to look at him. 

“Steve…how did I not know you were here?” she sighed, disappointment thick in her voice, purple forming beneath her eyes and her hair a disheveled mess, “Why are you still here?”

“I fixed the fridge…just took me awhile.”

“Oh, wow. Thank you…so much.”

The unabashed gratitude that fell over her face could barely mask her exasperation. He stood in silence, looking down at her with pity and affection rising in his chest. He’d never seen her like this, but he wondered how many nights she’d stayed here late in a panic alone.

“Steve, I don’t think I’ve told you how much I appreciate you, and everything you do,” she began, her voice heavy, “You’ve done so much for me, and I have not compensated you fairly. I’m so sorry. I keep, just…waiting for you to, say you’re leaving, and I wouldn’t even know what to do… You can do a lot better than here-”

“Hey, I’m not goin’ anywhere,” he assured her, taking a step closer, denying the urge to kneel in front of her and take her hands in his, “Is that what you’re worried about?”

“No, I mean yes I worry about that, but, we got a massive order today. It’s huge. And, I don’t see myself being able to finish this in time…”

“We can do it. Map it out, I can…I can put things where they need to go.”

He laughed at his own stupid attempt at consolation, and so did she. Her shoulders dropped a little and her eyes softened, one side of her mouth ticking up into a smirk, just as his had. 

“Look, why don’t I go get us dinner from…somewhere open. And you can teach me what I need to know,” he offered, and again that look of gratitude overtook her, with a hint of guilt.

“I can’t ask you to do that,” she answered, shaking her head.

“Never said you had to ask.”

The next day brought an early morning after a long night. He’d walked her to her car before heading back to his barren hotel room, his head buzzing with so many emotions and thoughts he didn’t close his eyes until sunrise. When he entered the shop, he saw the magnitude of the task before them. The entire back and front was filled with various pastel blooms, he could barely see her bobbing up and down throughout the buckets, taking inventory of all that had arrived. She hurriedly explained what needed to be done, and after a few trial and failures, she’d left him to the task.

Despite the stark difference from his past profession, he found himself loving this new occupation. Turns out he had a knack for it, too. Before long he was completing each arrangement in pace with her. It started with a white rose here, a pink peony there, a sprig of lavender and then a bunch of lilac to top it off; had he not been so focused on ensuring perfection in each of his projects, he’d have fallen head over heels for the proud and outwardly contented way she glanced at him a few more times than necessary. 

As the list of to-dos grew shorter, the mood grew lighter. By lunchtime, they had more than half of the arrangements done, and that’s when everything began to fall apart. When he returned from placing the sandwich order he was greeted by a misting of water right to the chin, her height preventing a higher target, and he retaliated with a shower of large drops from his shaking fingers above her head. She shrieked, laughing and taking off into a run through the garden of vases and strewn seconds quality blooms, and for the first time in his life he wasn’t in a chase for the sake of the fight. When he’d cornered her, all it took was a smile and his guard faltered, and with a quick slip beneath his arm, she was free again, pointing her weaponized spray bottle at his chest, her face sparkling in victory. He surrendered, hands raised, his smile reaching his eyes.

They ate lunch on the floor, beers cracked in the early afternoon after the long morning, with still more work to be done. Sunlight poured in through the humidity fogged windows, surrounding her in ethereal grace as she sat on the tile, her hair a wild mess, petals and leaves scattered across her skin like little pieces of a new life waiting for him for him to collect and piece together, a new beginning. She was all that was wild and free, beautiful and raw. Everything he was not. 

When the work began again he moved slower, his eyes unable to focus on his hands in favor of sneaking glances to the woman at his left. She lingered closer than she had that morning, their elbows grazing ever so gently as they worked. He didn’t move; neither did she. 

As the sun began dipping in the sky, she set the final two roses in place and sighed in relief. She turned to find his gaze intent and unwavering, his face slightly desperate—he wasn’t sure how much longer he could pretend, and it was beginning to show. However, he’d promised her he’d stay, and the thought of abandoning her now, because of his own lack of control over his emotions, would leave him guilt stricken and depleted. He’d abandoned enough of the people he’d come to care for, he couldn’t do it again.

Moments passed, and they didn’t turn away. He waited for a quizzical look to befall her, but it never came, instead he was greeted by a revering glimmer of mischief. Methodically, she picked a small strewn lilac blossom from the table, and pressed it into his chin, his now full beard holding onto the tiny stem, keeping the tiny purple flower in place. He laughed, toothy and deep, and her nose crinkled in a satisfied smile, fingers lingering cautiously on his jaw. Her touch ignited a fire in him he hadn’t felt for a very, very long time, and instinctually he gravitated toward her hand, needing to feel a warmth and affection he’d been yearning for for so very long. 

Despite his best efforts to commit this moment to memory, he’d never be able to recall who leaned in first—perhaps they had played an equal hand in the way their lips now pressed firmly against the other’s, maybe it was his doing, he’d never know for certain. What he did know was that her hand cradled his jaw in the most gentle of ways, thumb resting on his cheek, and her lips were soft as she feathered them against his own. Maybe it was the exhaustion, or the relief of this task being done, but they didn’t stop. What began as tentative quickly evolved into something much more frenzied. 

He lifted her with ease as their tongues clashed, her fingers winding into the long hair that had grown in over the months, her other arm wrapped tightly around his neck as he spun and sat her onto the workbench, giving her a slight advantage to his usually towering height. Pots went crashing to the floor, the entire surface shaking as they grabbed and pulled, a fire igniting between them. She used her new leverage to her advantage, pressing herself closer to him, and for a moment even his own bellowing self-doubts couldn’t convince him that perhaps she hadn’t wanted this as much as he had. 

When air was finally a necessity, the pulled back just enough to see each other, their glazed eyes meeting briefly through the haze and heat. He smirked, content and fulfilled in every way he’d been lacking. Slowly, she pressed back in, kissing him again but this time it was different. Her movements almost deep and reverent, like she’d been waiting for this moment. He felt her fingers gently raking through his hair and her arms secure around him; he was trapped, held in her grasps for what he knew would be eternity now.

The movements grew timid, gauging his reaction as her waves slowed from crashing and all-encompassing to gentle laps at his now swollen lips until she stopped, pressing her forehead to his as her ragged breaths hit his lips. His chest was heaving as he pressed his fingertips into the soft skin of her waist, and before the fear could creep back into his chest, she laughed, blissfully and content, and he settled.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

She didn’t answer, but the soft press of her lips to his eyelids and brow said all he needed to know. 

“Are you?” she inquired, dragging her nose across his cheek. And for the first time in a long time, he was.

With one last press of her lips to his, she slid back down to her feet. He expected her to walk away, continue on with what needed to be done, but she didn’t. Her arms wrapped tightly under his, her hands pressing him close as she nuzzled her head into his chest and he wrapped her tight into his embrace. She felt so small against him, enveloped securely in his hold, her head tucked under his chin as he cradled her. He wondered if she could feel his heart hammering in his chest. He watched as the sun fell below the horizon, and they remained steadfast in their moment. 

When darkness had finally fallen, she finally moved, kissing across his jaw and over as much of his cheek she could reach on the tips of her toes before she pressed one final affection to his lips. As she pulled away, her hands traveled the lengths of his arms until she held his hands in her own, still silent, but her intentions screaming. He didn’t want to leave, he didn’t want this to end. Would it be like this tomorrow? Or was this one of those moments in time never to be repeated, only cherished?

Upon his return, his room seemed even darker now. He made his way to the sink and he barely recognized the reflection staring back at him. With tousled hair and flushed cheeks, he was smiling from ear to ear, the feeling of her hands still ghosting over his skin. For once he didn’t consider consequences or fears, he just lived in this second, where her warmth still lingered.

The next morning came quickly, his stomach erupting into butterflies as he got ready for the day, unsure of what it would bring. He arrived before her, giddy and nervous—he felt like a school boy again, ready for a first date. The space was still destroyed from their massive undertaking the day before, and he set to work tidying up before her arrival. Six months he’d been here, it had almost become home. It felt like it, besides the fact he still stayed in that motel. He wondered what Tony or Nat would say watching him collect the strewn peonies from the floor, he knew Bucky and Sam would tease, but maybe this is what Tony had been talking about when he mentioned getting a life. He was right. This was something he wouldn’t have wanted to miss.

Bustling and clumsy as ever, the familiar ring of the bells jingling throughout the room, he heard her come in and his nerves sparked to life. She called for him, but the way his name fell from her lips settled differently now than it had in the past months. The collection of flowers was still bundled in his hand, and without a second thought he walked to her, handing the small bouquet to her as a gift.

“I’ll buy ‘em,” he jested, one corner of his mouth ticking into a smirk. 

Even this early in the morning she was brighter than the sun, the way she peered at him through her lashes as she accepted his silly gift hitting him in the stomach. As her hand gently slid up his chest, a glimmer of caution in her eyes, his hands fell to her waist—this was real. She thanked him with a chaste kiss, clutching the bushel of pink peonies to her chest, and he made sure to press one last peck to her lips before she pulled away, if she was looking for reassurance, he would give it.

“So I…uh, did things a little out of order,” he began, rubbing the back of his neck nervously, “but I was hoping you’d like to go on a date. Dinner? Maybe?”

“Sorry Steve, I think I only want to make out with you in the backroom every once in awhile…” she teased, and he shook his head, laughing, “It’s nothing personal.”

“Got it, hint taken.”

Raising his hands in feigned defeat, he couldn’t stop that toothy smile from erupting across his face again, and when her arms wrapped tightly around his middle, he reciprocated her embrace certain that this was his future. 

“I’ll have dinner with you on one condition,” she mumbled into his flannel shirt, unwilling to pull herself away from him.

“I’ll do my best,” he replied, tucking his chin atop her head, absentmindedly swaying them side to side.

“We’re cooking dinner.”

“Oh. No. I don’t cook. That’s…I’m trying to keep you around, not run ya off.”

“I’ll teach you.”

He was hopeless. Smoke filled the kitchen, the stove was splattered with charred tomato sauce, and the pasta sat an inedible blob in the colander in the sink. She was laughing hysterically at him, keeled over in the corner, tears streaming down her face as he stared at her, defeated and irked at his own failures.  
“I never knew…” she choked out between her hysterics, “that someone could mess up PASTA this badly! It’s…it’s impressive!”

“Well I’m glad you think it’s funny,” he groaned, running a hand through his hair, “I told you I couldn’t cook. I warned you.”

“You did. I’m not mad about it. Truly, I am impressed.”

“Well, what are we gonna do? Now that I’ve ruined everything.”

“You didn’t ruin anything. I have pizza on the way already. As soon as you tried to boil that pasta I mentally called it, but you were trying so hard, I didn’t want to discourage you.”

His demeanor softened and she rose to her feet, grabbing his hands and pulling him in towards her. If one good thing came out of this disaster, it was the way she kissed him there in the smoky kitchen, proud of his failure. When the pizza arrived, they sat on the couch and ate it, laughing at each other’s jokes, complete with fleeting touches and sneaky kisses. This was simplicity.

Halfway through whatever film she’d put on the TV, she passed out on his chest right there on the couch. He’d tried to pay attention to what she’d put on, but the way her hair fanned out across her back, spilling onto his arm had captivated his attention much more. Her deep, rhythmic breaths lulled him into his own dreamlike state, and he felt himself dozing. Knowing he had a long walk home, he knew it was time for the night to end, despite everything in him wanting it to continue.

Gently, he lifted her into his arms, her head lolling onto his shoulder. He walked slower than he normally would have, wanting to prolong this time, although he was certain it wouldn’t be the last. For the first time in his life, he wasn’t afraid of losing what he’d found, only that it would be stolen from him. After he placed her on the bed, dragging the blankets up to her chin, he was taken aback as her hand shot out to his as he turned away, her eyes fluttering open in the dim light washing in from the hallway.

“Will you stay?” she whispered apprehensively, and he wasn’t sure if it was from exhaustion or nerves.

“You want me to stay?” he replied, his eyebrows wrinkling in shock and confusion.

“Yeah, if you want to.”

With a nod, he’d unknowingly sealed his future. Leaving briefly to lock the doors and turn off her lights, he returned to see her fighting to stay awake, waiting for him. He laughed, kicking off his shoes and jeans before sliding in the side opposite her, inching closer as she scooted back until she fit perfectly in the curve of his body. His arm wrapped tightly around her, her bed was a resort compared to where he’d been sleeping, and the way she turned and lazily kissed him goodnight—a first for him despite being decades old—was something he didn’t think he’d ever get enough of.

When he returned the keys to his motel room the following morning, she waited for him in the lobby, his one bag of belongings at her feet and a smile on her face. The walk out to her car was liberating, the birds were chirping in the trees, the sun’s warmth hit his face, and he listened intently to her itinerary for the day, which featured a few stops to broaden his clothing selection from what could fit into one duffel bag.

“Ready to go home?” she chimed, peering over the roof of her car at him before getting in.

Home. He was ready to be home.

**Author's Note:**

> Two more parts planned! Feedback is motivating!


End file.
